Shakespeare's Counselor by Charlaine Harris

restlessly. I caught no echoes of it as I cleaned my teeth and fluffed my hair. I expected my new sneakers to make me perk up; I don’t often get new things, and these black high-tops had been on extreme sale.
    But after they were laced and tied I stared down at them as if I’d never seen them before; or my feet, either, for that matter.
    I saw a car already parked in the lot to the rear of Carrie’s office, and I had a feeling I’d seen it before. I just couldn’t place where and when. It was an hour earlier than any of the staff should appear. When I tried the back door, it was already unlocked.
    â€œHello?” I said cautiously, not wanting to scare anyone.
    â€œGood morning!” called a horribly happy voice. Cliff Eggers stuck his head out of one of the doors on the left. “Carrie left a message you’d be coming in.”
    I brought in my cleaning caddy and a few other things. I didn’t know what Carrie’s new cleaner kept here, so I’d piled my car with stuff. I had to do a great job for Carrie.
    â€œAnd you’re here so early to do medical transcriptions?” I said in a voice that would carry down the hall as I deposited my burdens.
    â€œThat’s right.” Cliff appeared in the doorway again, beaming at me as though I’d said something very clever. “It works out better for me this way. I can do the rest of my doctors at home.”
    â€œAnd you like your job,” I prodded.
    â€œIt’s fascinating. I learn something every day. Well, I’d better get back to it.” Cliff retreated to his desk, and I started with the waiting room. Dust, straighten, polish, vacuum, mop. In short order, the magazines were lined up on the square table in the middle of the room; the chairs were sitting in neat rows against the wall. The large mat in front of the door where most of the dirt from patients’ shoes was supposed to fall had been shaken out the front door and replaced, exactly square with the door.
    Cliff squeaked down the hall in rubber shoes, and I cleaned the glass barrier between the patient sitting room and the clerks’ office. I saw with disapproval that Carrie’s new maid had been slacking off there. And the counter in the reception clerk’s area was just nasty.
    â€œWant a cup of coffee?” he called to me after a few minutes had passed.
    â€œNo, thank you,” I said politely.
    I was able to get on with the other rooms and the hall, and cleaned as fast as a dervish whirls until I reached the room in which Cliff was working.
    The burly man was sitting at a desk, a headset on, and his fingers flying across the keys of a computer. His leg was moving slightly, and as I mopped behind him, I saw that he was operating a pedal. He wasn’t listening to music on a CD player, as I’d at first believed. He was listening to Carrie’s voice. I could barely hear it while I dusted. Carrie was saying, “temperature of one hundred and one. Mr. Danby said he’d had episodes of fever for the past two days, and his stomach had become very sore and tender to the touch. Upon examination, when the lower left quadrant of his abdomen was palpated…”
    â€œYou know anything about medicine?” Cliff said out loud, as I wiped the picture frames.
    â€œNo, not much,” I confessed.
    â€œIt’s like listening to a soap opera every day,” he said, as if I’d asked.
    â€œUmmm,” I said, lifting an open magazine to wipe underneath, ready to set it down exactly the same way.
    â€œHow’s Tamsin doing?” I asked, just to stop him from asking me any more questions. I had seen his lips begin to form a phrase.
    â€œShe’s doing well, considering what a shock she got,” Cliff said, his heavy face grim. He hesitated for a second, then said, “And considering this has ruined our new life here.”
    That seemed a strange way to put it. Here I was thinking it was